


incarnadine

by IrisParry



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Macbeth AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisParry/pseuds/IrisParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Selyse knew what he asked of her, even if he would not, could not, speak the words. <em>This flame gutters in the wind,</em> she thought, teeth worrying absently at her bottom lip, <em>but sheltered and stoked, it shall tear the night asunder.</em> </p><p> </p><p>The Baratheons do Macbeth Act 1 scene 5. I regret nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	incarnadine

It was as Melisandre had seen. Lord of Dragonstone, and now Storm's End. Stannis knew what came after. The priestess had lit the sacred fire, had shown them the way. The pungent smoke had filled their lungs and opened their minds, shown them R'hllor's plan. Though Stannis had scoffed, had ground his bloody teeth together, muttered that he only played out the mummer's farce for her sake, she knew he had seen it too. Dragonstone. Storm's End. And a crown of flame. He forgot himself, eyes rapt, glimpsing a _possibility_ , a destiny...

_All hail, that shalt be king hereafter..._

He would speak little of it, but Stannis remembered. His letter told as much. Their marriage had never been the stuff of foolish songs, but Selyse knew her husband well enough. Behind his words she could see the tentative hope that it was in Stannis' nature to stamp out, unkindled. Selyse read the letter for the hundredth time, pacing, shadows dancing on the walls of her chamber. The fire raged against sea air that crept in through shuttered windows, and she felt that more than ever that on Dragonstone they did indeed stand between two great forces. Here, none could doubt the battle that was to come. And had Dragonstone not been the seat of the Targaryen heirs?

A strong wind rattled the windows and Shireen stirred, curled on her mother's day bed, her little fist clenching once, twice, but she did not wake. 

_What greatness is promised thee..._ Stannis had written. _Lay it to thy heart._ As if he did not know how she already did. Selyse knew what he asked of her, even if he would not, could not, speak the words. _This flame gutters in the wind_ , she thought, teeth worrying absently at her bottom lip, _but sheltered and stoked, it shall tear the night asunder._

Most thought her husband cold, she knew, but he loved King Robert like few others did, simply and almost without question. Stannis' sense of what was right came from his heart as much as from dry and dusty books of law. He was not made of stone, though he had armoured himself as such to cover... disappointment, she supposed. His own and his suspicion of the disappointment of others, of the judgement he saw behind every brittle smile. Selyse was glad he had sense enough to let few see such sentimentality, and she no longer dwelled on his sparing little of it for her. 

A log shifting in the hearth sent red sparks crackling upward, the flames flaring brighter for a moment. Across the room Shireen sighed but she slept on, her book slipping from her fingers as she burrowed further beneath the blanket. Selyse went to her and gently worked the tome from beneath her arm so it would not fall. On the open page, Rhaenys Targaryen climbed atop her great dragon, preparing for war. One of Shireen's favourite stories. Selyse remembered her chattering away about the beast in awed, hushed tones. How he was born here on Dragonstone, like Shireen, in the salt and the smoke; how clever Rhaenys had been at the Last Storm, how brave and sad Argella Durrendon; and, shyly, peering up through her lashes, how they might see Meraxes' skull in King's Landing one day, might they? 

_You will see him._ Selyse stood and closed the book, setting it on the table where Shireen would not miss it when she woke. _We will make sure of that._

The Lord of Light had given her daughter's strength such sore tests. _She has been brave enough already._ Shireen should not have to fight any more than her little life had already demanded of her.

Selyse sank to her knees before the fireplace, the protestations of her joints reminding her of the years that had passed. Of how she had thought each moon's blood cruel, before more and more waxed and waned without it. Selyse thought of beautiful bridal linen trodden onto a bedchamber floor, and of Delena's brat squalling his mother's sordid triumph. When she felt a treacherous prickle behind her eyes she stared harder into the fire, until her gaze burned dry, and she did not blink. 

_All hail, that shalt be king hereafter..._

The Mother Above had paid little heed to Selyse's prayers. But the Seven were One, the One the enemy. 

"R'hllor, come to me in darkness," she whispered, knowing that she was heard. "Cast your light upon me."

The Seven had never given them a son. R'hllor would give them a queen. 

"The shadows are yours as is the light. Let them shroud your servants that we might see your will done." 

A crown of flame. In that moment, she could almost see it again with her waking eyes.

"R'hllor, bring out the fire in your champion's heart..." 

He knew what could be. But he needed to _believe_. 

She was still kneeling when Stannis returned, her thoughts lost amidst the flames, and their spark shone bright in her eyes as she stood to meet him. It was not his habit to find her in her chambers so swiftly, if at all. His face was still flush from the cold, and damp with a sheen of the rainwater that ran from his cloak and pooled around his boots.

At her glance in Shireen's direction he put out a gloved hand to stop the door swinging closed, quietly pushed it to. Stannis looked lost for a moment, hovering at the edge of the room as if he was not sure why he had come. His gaze darted here and there, the creases in his brow deepening as if he did not recognise anything he saw. 

"Storm's End," Selyse said softly, a reminder and a prompt. She could not keep the smile from her lips, though Stannis had no such trouble. 

"Robert will make Ned Stark his Hand," he snorted. "He rides north with the full circus as soon as it can be made ready." 

Selyse took a step toward him, protestations on her lips, but Stannis continued. "First, he comes here," he told her, and he did not look at her face. "Tonight."

Selyse's heart was a fist as she stood before her husband.

"And when goes hence?" she asked, her own words small and distant in her ears. 

"Tomorrow, as he purposes."

Selyse went to him, then, grasping both his shoulders and forcing herself into his line of sight. He flinched, but he did not move away.  
"Never shall sun that morrow see," she whispered, "for the night is dark and full of terrors."

**Author's Note:**

> My go-to text is the RSC's 2009 edition. Much inspiration taken from my favourite Macbeths, David Morrissey and Julia Ford at the Liverpool Everyman in 2011 (my flailing about this [here](http://irisparry.tumblr.com/post/49201669367/i-havent-been-able-to-watch-the-latest-game-of), great trailer [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXYlgrjf5p4), and there's a link there to watch the full production, which I heartily recommend because it was AMAZING).
> 
> Title from Macbeth's lines:
> 
> Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood  
> Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather  
> The mutiltidinous seas incarnadine,  
> making the green one red.  
>  _2:2 71 - 74_
> 
> As is probably apparent I pinched various lines from the play as follows.
> 
>  **Third Witch:** All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter! _1:3 52_
> 
> Lines from Stannis' are letter from this part of Macbeth's, as read by Lady M:  
> This I have thought good to deliver thee - my dearest partner of greatness - that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.' _1:5 10-14_
> 
> Parts of the Baratheons' conversation taken from the Macbeths' later in the scene:  
>  **Macbeth:** Duncan comes here tonight.  
>  **Lady M:** And when goes hence?  
>  **Macbeth:** Tomorrow, as he purposes.  
>  **Lady M:** O, never  
>  shall sun that morrow see!  
>  _1:5 63 - 66_
> 
> Don't ask me how/why he gets Storm's End or a bunch of other practicalities here because I don't know, ok, I just had to get this idea out of my system. I nearly added a bit more about Renly being a traitor like the Thane of Cawdor, just to be mean, but it made it too plotty. ~runs away~


End file.
